Hit and Run
by International08
Summary: She - for he had realized it must be a woman - threw her leg over the bike, standing in tall boots and reaching up to her helmet.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All Castle characters are the property of Andrew Marlowe and ABC.

Author's note: One shot for now, but possibly to be continued. Set somewhere in Season 3, after Under the Gun.

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><p>He was just half a block away from the precinct, a box of pastries and a pair of lattes from the bakery down the street balanced in his hands. Suddenly he heard a roaring behind him as a bike pulled into a spot next to the building.<p>

It was all shining black and gleaming chrome. The rider was thin, he noticed, long legs tightly encased in dark jeans, upper body wrapped in black leather. She (for he had realized it must be a woman) threw her leg over the bike, standing in tall boots and reaching up to her helmet.

And then she spotted him, and oh god, she was walking toward him.

She used both hands to lift off her helmet, releasing a cascade of dark auburn hair, and he froze, watching as she ran her fingers through her messy locks to push them into place.

"Mornin', Castle," she lilted as she reached for one of the coffees.

He made no move to hand it to her, his eyes roving her body, up and down, up and down.

"Hey, one of those for me? Or were you just extra thirsty today?"

He started a little when he realized she was speaking to him and brought his gaze back up to her face.

"Beckett?" he asked, disbelievingly, his voice a pitch higher than usual.

She smirked, taking a cup from his hands. He nearly fumbled the other cup and the box when her fingers brushed against his.

He stared as she took a long sip of the coffee.

"Thanks, Castle."

He knew there was some standard polite response, but for whatever reason, his lips couldn't quite form the words.

"Oh, uh..." was all that came out.

She laughed and shifted the cup into her other hand, the helmet under her arm. He didn't move a muscle when she brought her now free hand up to his jaw, her index finger pushing his chin upward to close his mouth. A shiver ran down his spine, and she just grinned, turning on her heel and heading for the precinct.

He stayed there, not budging, his eyes following the sway of her hips and the swish of her hair as she walked. He was mesmerized.

Already ten feet away, she paused, and turned back to him.

"You comin', Castle?"

Her words jolted him out of his trance, and he trotted to catch up, glad for the lid on the sloshing coffee.

She waited for him and they walked together in silence up the steps and into the building. The elevator arrived quickly, and the two of them entered, leaning against the back of the car, and standing, as they always did, a little too close together.

She caught him staring at her again, and he had the decency to quickly avert his eyes as his face heated.

"See, this is why I didn't show you those pictures," she said, and he could hear the amusement in her voice. "I knew you couldn't handle it."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: All Castle characters are the property of Andrew Marlowe and ABC.

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><p><em>Later that day...<em>

This was a bad idea. Quite possibly one of the worst she'd ever had. Sure, it had started as a joke, as her yanking his chain. But what it had turned into was something far more dangerous.

He had wanted to go back to the victim's apartment. Said something felt off. And she trusted his judgment enough to agree. He had an eye for these things, and if something had been nagging at him, it was probably important.

So she agreed, telling him they'd leave as soon as she was able to get a car from the motor pool. Hers was in for maintenance, she reminded him. Or they could take a cab, he'd suggested, eager to see if his hunch had any merit. She shrugged. They could take her bike, she mentioned, completely as a joke, just to tease him.

He got that pleading look in his eyes. That look that she had such a hard time refusing. The look that told her he would be crushed if she said no. And she had been the one to suggest it, hadn't she? She couldn't take it back, not without admitting that she was trying to get a rise out of him.

So she agreed, pulling out the extra half-shell helmet she kept in her desk for when Josh picked her up from work on his bike. He grinned, his eyes lighting up like it was Christmas, and she couldn't help her own small smile—he was just too cute sometimes.

When they got outside, she'd helped him with his helmet and gotten him situated on the bike. She told him where to put his feet, and gave him a few tips for being a good rider: try not to slide forward too much if we have to brake hard, keep your feet up, look over my shoulder in the direction that we're turning so you'll lean with me.

He nodded and said he'd been on a bike a few times, though it had been several years ago. She figured he'd be alright, and the vic hadn't lived far from the precinct, so it wouldn't be a long journey anyway.

Now, though, now she was regretting it. Now she remembered why letting Castle ride on the back of her bike was a bad idea.

His fingers were firm on her hips, and though there was nothing inappropriate in his touch, every time he readjusted his hold, she felt a jolt of electricity shoot up her spine.

This was New York City, and she had to brake suddenly once or twice. Every time, his thighs squeezed tight around her as he braced himself, trying to follow her rules by not crowding her. But his heavier body slid forward nonetheless, and she felt his chest pressing against her back, his heat radiating into her, even through the layers of leather and fabric.

They took a tight turn and he started to lean the wrong direction. He corrected his mistake quickly, but it threw her off balance for a moment, and as soon they pulled up to the next light, she turned to give him a glare.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he chanted, his blue eyes repentant.

She softened a little. Not enough that he would lose his concentration on caution as they rode, but enough that he would know she wasn't really mad at him.

She broke her gaze from his just as they light turned green and they took off again. It was just another few blocks, and she was glad of it.

They made the last turn, and she was grateful that he leaned the right way. His fingers tightened a little against her and when she looked in the mirror, he was smiling over her shoulder, his face happy and relaxed.

She looked away from the mirror and realized they were about to zoom past their destination. She braked, hard, and he wasn't prepared this time.

Inertia carried him onward, propelling his chest once again into her back. Her own reflexes—and his, once he understood what was happening—kept them from toppling, but his weight against her drove her forward. He tried to steady her, his hands gliding from her hips to her waist, slipping just under her jacket, his fingers skating over her belly and drawing her back toward him.

"Sorry, Kate," he said as she pulled off her helmet, his voice low and close to her ear.

She worked to get her breathing under control. Just an adrenaline burst from that brief feeling of falling, she thought.

"It's okay," she answered, turning to look at him and finding him much closer than she expected. "It's my fault. I got distracted."

He didn't speak, but his eyes flicked down to her mouth, and she realized that he was still wrapped around her, his thumbs grazing aimlessly across her ribs, his thighs tight against her hips, his hard chest warm on her back.

She cleared her throat and his focus broke. His hands stopped their movement and he pulled them away, scooting back from her.

"Can I get off now, or do you want to go first?"

She stifled her grin.

"You can get off first."

Carefully, he shifted his hips and then swung his leg over, finding his balance and standing. She followed, securing the bike and coming to stand beside him at the door to the building.

"Helmet," she reminded him and he reddened, reaching up to undo the straps and lift it off.

His normally perfect hair was a mess and before she could stop herself, she found her hands reaching up to smooth it down a bit.

He went completely still under her touch, his eyes drifting shut for just a moment, opening again when her hand dropped to his shoulder for a quick squeeze.

"You know, you're a pretty good passenger, Castle," she said with a smirk.

"Thanks," he nodded. "It was fun. Anytime you wanna go for a ride, let me know. I'd be happy to come with you."

She bit her lip, and arched an eyebrow at him. He blushed and shook his head at her.

"Not what I meant, and you know it. Though I'd be happy to make that offer as well."

She grinned and gave him a slow wink.

"I'll keep that under consideration. Now let's go see what we can find."

He nodded and opened the door, ushering her in with a warm hand on her lower back. He'd done the same thing many times, and she'd gotten used to it. But this time his touch reignited the flames that had died down when they'd dismounted the bike a minute before. She tried-and failed-to suppress a small shiver.

"Cold?" he asked softly as they walked to the elevator.

"No."

He didn't reply, but when she looked over at him, she found just a hint of a smug smile on his face.

"Shut up, Castle."

"I didn't say a word, Detective Beckett," he protested, reaching out to push the button for the elevator.

She glanced at him again, and he turned to catch her gaze, his blue eyes sparkling in that way that made her heart flutter in her chest.

"I'm looking forward to our ride back to the precinct," he said, and she felt her eyes widen. "I think I'm really getting the hang of it."

Oh, crap. This really was a bad idea.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: All Castle characters are the property of Andrew Marlowe and ABC.

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><p>Best. Idea. Ever.<p>

Somehow he'd managed to fluster her. The normally stoic detective was off balance. And he'd caused that. Usually it was the other way around, he mused. Usually she was the one to distract him, to leave him a little addled by her teasing.

Though she'd gotten to him for a moment, he had seemingly turned the tables. And with a simple touch to her lower back, something he'd done dozens of times? That made it even better.

He watched as she fumbled a little with the keys to the apartment, her normally graceful hands having turned into butterfingers.

Reaching a hand out, he felt her hand freeze under his.

"Allow me," he said, and was it his imagination or did his voice sound deeper than usual?

She turned a glare on him, but he took the keys and opened the door, his palm once again coming up to meet her back and guide her through the portal. She paused, and he gave her the slightest nudge.

He hoped that her pride, her inability to admit when something was affecting her, would hold today. Because if she didn't say anything, he knew he could keep pushing her. Nothing overt, nothing too far out of the ordinary for them. Just a brush of the shoulders here and there, a spark between their fingers as he passed something to her. Everyday things that always had an effect on him, but had never seemed to move her in the least. Until now.

They entered the apartment and split up.

"So what exactly are we looking for, Castle?" she asked as he walked around the living room.

"I'm not sure," he responded. "Something just felt off the other day."

Something had been off. A coworker had come to check on her when she didn't show up for work, entering the apartment with the building super. They found her sprawled on the living room floor and immediately called the police. When they'd arrived, the scene was spotless. There had been nothing to suggest forced entry, nothing to suggest a visitor, nothing to suggest that the dead woman had not simply collapsed from a heart attack. Except there were marks around her neck that Lanie said indicated she'd been strangled.

Beckett's team had gotten nowhere at the scene and nothing from interviews with friends and family either. By all accounts, the victim had lived a quiet life as a receptionist at a local doctor's office. She didn't have any family, and few friends. He hated to even think such a thing, but it didn't seem like anyone would really miss her much. Conversely, they hadn't met or heard of anyone who would have reason to want her dead. Everyone said she was quiet and kind and a somewhat of a neat freak. Having seen her apartment, Castle agreed.

The writer wandered into the immaculate kitchen. He surveyed the table and chairs. Nothing amiss there. No dishes in the sink. Everything neat in the doorless cabinets. Every plate in its place, every mug turned upside down with the handle...

"Beckett?" he called, starting to turn back toward the living room.

"What?"

He'd been so focused that he hadn't heard her come up behind him. He jumped and whirled at the same time, and she took a quick step back in surprise. Her heel skidded on the recently waxed floor, and she began to slip, her eyes widening in shock. Her fingers scrabbled for purchase against his sleeves, and he abruptly realized that now they were both falling.

His reflexes weren't fast enough to catch himself in time, but he at least managed to get a hand behind her head to keep it from slamming into the cold floor.

He landed with an "oof" on top of her, one hand flying out to brace himself next to her head, the other tangled in her hair as his knuckles bashed against the tile.

Her body was warm under his, their chests mashed together and legs tangled as they lay there in a heap. One of his knees had hit the ground, hard, and he was finding it a little difficult to move.

He could tell by the fact that she hadn't pushed him off yet that she must be winded herself, but when he felt her shaking beneath him and heard what sounded like a whimper, he lifted his head so he could see her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut and tears were streaming down over her temples.

"Kate, oh my God, are you okay?"

He started to roll off her, but her hands clenched on his arms, holding him in place. His gaze dropped back to her face to see her lips curling upwards as her green eyes opened.

She was laughing. And suddenly he was too.

They spent several seconds just looking at each other and laughing.

"Your face, Castle," she panted out. "Oh, when you were falling. I've never see you look so terrified."

This brought a fresh round of giggles from her, and though he knew he should be offended, he joined her.

Finally, their laughter slowed, and he gave her a more serious look.

"Are you really okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, lifting one hand to wipe away the wetness on her face from laughing too hard. "You okay?"

"Well, I banged my knee and sacrificed my hand to keep you from cracking your skull, and I think I sprained my dignity, but other than that, I think I'm fine."

She brought her hand up and patted him on the cheek.

"Thanks for not letting me crack my skull. That was very gallant of you."

He grinned.

"I am a gentleman, after all."

She smirked at him.

"Is that why you tackled me and still haven't gotten off?"

He shook his head.

"That may be the way you tell it, but as I recall, you pulled me on top of you and then you held me down."

"Yes, well, at your advanced age, I don't think I'm the one making it difficult for you get up, Castle."

She squirmed a little as she freed her other hand, and he strained to keep his eyes open and focused on hers as she moved against him.

"Oh no, my dear detective," he drawled. "You make it very easy to get up. Trust me."

Her face flushed, and she shifted a little more, pushing against his shoulder with one hand, forcing his upper body away from her. What she hadn't counted on was his current lack of balance, and Newton's Third Law. In this case the equal and opposite reaction to her push against his shoulder was that his lower body pressed even closer to hers.

He knew she was feeling the same thing he was when her blush deepened.

"What happened to being a gentleman?" she asked, trying to wiggle out from under him.

"I'm trying, but you're making it a little hard."

She stopped moving to stare at him, and Castle smirked. He could have sworn her eyes darkened a little as she scowled at him. It took all his restraint to not lean down and kiss her annoyance away.

Finally, he sighed and removed the hand that was still tangled in her hair, using it to push himself up so he could roll away from her.

He lay there on the floor for a moment, his eyes closed as he thought about blizzards and freezers and ice-cold showers.

When he looked up again, she was standing and extending a hand to him.

"Just don't pull me down again."

He grinned and forced himself up, taking her hand only when he was sure he was steady enough not to make her slip again. She gave his hand a brief squeeze once he was on his feet and then released it.

"So, what did you find in here before our little mishap?" she asked curiously.

"Oh, yeah. Look."

He pointed at the cabinet, and she shrugged, not seeing what he did.

"Look at the handles of those mugs. They're all pointed the same way."

"Except that one," she finished, reaching into her pocket for an evidence bag and carefully placing the mug inside.

"Nice observation skills, Castle. Turns out you're good at something after all."

He grinned.

"Oh, I'm good at a lot of things, Detective," he said, lowering his voice a little.

She narrowed her eyes, and he decided to push a little harder.

"But I can think of one area where I could use some practice, especially if what happened earlier is any sign. Of course, I'll need your help."

"Oh, really? And why is that?"

Her eyes flicked briefly to his lips and he took a step forward, just inside that bubble of socially acceptable closeness.

"Because I'd like to have an experienced teacher, and from what I've seen, you're an expert."

"Am I?" she wondered, and maybe it was just his imagination but she sounded a little breathless.

"Mmm, you should be by now. How long have you been doing it after all? Twelve, thirteen years?"

Her eyes widened a little but she didn't say anything.

"In fact," he continued. "Now that we're done here, I think we should go practice."

She was biting her lip, and he knew he had her where he wanted her. Finally, she spoke, a little hesitantly.

"What exactly were you thinking, Castle?"

His lips curled upward and he quirked an eyebrow at her, taking a step back and turning away.

"Alexis and I are supposed to take a motorcycle safety course next weekend before we get that scooter," he threw back over his shoulder. "I don't wanna look like a complete amateur."

He heard her let out the breath she'd been holding, and he scooped up the helmets as she followed after him, locking the apartment on their way out.

He stood close to her in the elevator, enjoying his triumph, and watched the play of emotions on her face. She seemed to be waging some sort of internal battle.

"Next weekend, you said?" she asked as they reached the bottom and exited the building.

"Mmhmm," he answered, pulling on his helmet and passing over her own. "Why?"

"Well," she said, throwing a leg over the bike. "We really need to get back to work now, so I should probably handle it today. It'll be faster. But if you're free on Saturday, we can go for a ride, nice and slow, and I'll even let you drive. Just so you can get a better feel for things."

"That," he began and was horrified to hear the squeak in his voice. "That sounds good."

She pursed her lips, and from the twinkle in her eyes, he knew she was holding back a devious smile at having turned the tables once again. She pulled on her helmet as he mounted up behind her and settled his hands on her hips.

"Ready?" she asked over her shoulder.

He grinned.

"Anytime you are."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: All Castle characters are the property of Andrew Marlowe and ABC.

Author's note: Last chapter for this one, though there may be a follow up at some point in the future (probably not quite the same tone though). But this one is nice and long, with a fair bit of shameless innuendo and some sickeningly sweet fluff thrown in for good measure. My one fear with this one is that Kate may be a little OOC, but then I remember the nightclub and the "one more button" scenes, and I think maybe not. Enjoy!

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><p>She knocked at 8:26. It took a minute or two, but finally the door opened. Richard Castle stood before her, his hair mussed from sleep, his eyes not completely open yet. At least he was dressed, she figured, though he was currently barefoot and his maroon plaid shirt was only half buttoned, leaving several inches of tanned skin open to her perusal.<p>

"Mornin' Castle. Ready to go?"

He yawned in response, bringing a fist up to rub at his eyes.

"'S'too early."

She rolled her eyes.

"Man up, Writer Boy. You've gotten up earlier than this to come to crime scenes."

"Yeah, but usually there's a body waiting for me."

She smirked at him.

"Well, there's a body waiting for you this time too," she said, allowing her eyes to rake appreciatively up and down his tall figure. "And it's not even a cold one."

As expected, he blushed. For a man who regularly dealt out innuendo, he was surprisingly easy to embarrass, she had found.

"Besides, I brought coffee."

He perked up immediately when she extended a tray with two warm paper cups, her helmet tucked under the other arm.

"What, no bear claw?" he teased.

She glared, though there was no real malice in the look, and watched as he took a long sip, closing his eyes in appreciation of the warmth and the caffeine.

"The coffee shop across the street was all out. Be glad you're getting some coffee in the first place."

"Oh, I'm always glad to be getting some, Detective," he said, opening his eyes to reveal a mischievous glint. "Especially when it's you doing the giving."

The coffee had apparently worked quickly, and she took his renewed wit as a sign that he was conscious enough to safely go for a ride with her.

She rolled her eyes, and he grinned, wisely saying no more. He took another long sip and gestured toward the kitchen.

"Make yourself at home. I think Alexis made muffins last night. You're welcome to have one. I know you've got your coffee, but there's juice or milk in the fridge if you'd like."

She nodded, and he smiled before wandering off toward his bedroom, presumably to find his shoes and finish getting ready.

Perching herself on one of the barstools, she snagged a muffin - apple cinnamon, by the smell - and pulled the newspaper toward her, scanning the headlines and sports scores. The loft was quiet, for once. Aside from the faint sounds of the author shuffling around in his bedroom, and the ever-present low hum of electronics, she could hear nothing. His daughter was still asleep it seemed. And Martha, either asleep or not yet asleep, at least in her own bed.

She wondered sometimes what they thought about Castle following her around. They seemed to like her well enough, but she wondered how much he told them about some of their cases, how they would feel if they knew how often he'd been in danger while shadowing her.

She was pulled from her thoughts and blank stare at the paper by a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, are you okay?"

She looked up to meet the curious blue eyes of the man in question and gave him a small smile.

"Just a little tired, y'know?"

He nodded, the question in his eyes melting into compassion.

"Yeah, it was a late night. We don't have to do this if you don't want to. I'm sure you'd rather just rest on your day off, not put up with me."

He gave her shoulder a light squeeze, but she just shook her head.

"Thanks, Castle, but it's fine," she said, genuinely touched by his concern.

"If you're sure." "I am," she affirmed. "Actually, I've always found that a long, leisurely ride can be very relaxing."

She smirked as she watched his Adam's apple bob in an obvious gulp. He was really far too easy sometimes.

"Well then," he said, stepping back, "Shall we get this show on the road?"

She slipped off the stool and gave him an appraising look.

"Sure you're up to the challenge? You know what they say about old dogs and new tricks."

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"I have every confidence in your..." he paused, "teaching abilities."

Then he leaned ever so slightly forward, not touching her, but well within her personal space.

"Of course, with dogs, the key is positive reinforcement. You know, some kind of treat."

She grinned and lifted her hand to his chest, his surprisingly warm and solid chest, and pushed him away.

"Sorry, Castle. I'm fresh out of liver snaps."

He shrugged lightly as he headed toward the front closet.

"Mother did a play with a dog in it once," he threw over his shoulder. "Food never worked with him."

She sensed that he wasn't done, and sure enough, he turned to look at her as he slipped on a brown leather jacket and pulled down the new helmet he'd bought.

"You know what did?"

She had a sudden feeling that she'd rather not know, but quirked an eyebrow at him anyway.

"A good belly rub."

And then he was throwing the door open and walking out of the loft, glancing back at her from the doorway.

"You comin', Beckett?"

She pursed her lips and shook her head at the smirk on his face.

"Right behind you."

Once they were in the elevator, he bumped her shoulder with his.

"Hey," he said quietly.

She turned to meet his eyes, finding them crinkled at the edges.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," she said, giving him a soft smile. "It'll be fun for me too. I don't get to ride as often as I'd like. I'm kinda looking forward to it, even if the company does leave a little to be desired."

He just shook his head good-naturedly at her gibe and followed her out of the elevator when the doors opened.

"Are we staying in the city?"

"Nah, I figured we'd find some open road where we won't have to worry about traffic so much."

"Sounds good to me."

As they had before, she straddled the bike first and he clambered on after, settling himself behind her. His hands spanned her hips and she felt him give her a light squeeze, signaling that he was ready when she was. She checked that they were clear and the two of them sped off.

They rode for a good while, navigating through the busy streets of New York until they saw fewer and fewer cars. After they'd been riding for nearly an hour and had taken a few turns into a more rural area, Beckett pulled off onto a tiny road, bringing the bike to a stop.

"Ready to give this a try?" she asked, slipping off the bike and standing next to him.

He grinned and nodded, sliding forward to place his hands and feet where hers had rested a moment before. She quickly ran through the basics with him, answering his questions and giving clarification where needed.

She showed him how to put the bike in neutral and watched as he carefully pushed himself forward, learning how to hold the bike steady as it moved. When he'd mastered that within a few minutes, she had him shift into first gear and gradually let out the clutch, moving slowly and keeping his feet down for balance.

He rode a few yards down the road, and a little unexpected pride bloomed in her chest when he managed to safely turn and come back to her without further instruction.

"Did you see that?"

She rolled her eyes at the pleased grin on his face.

"You're a regular prodigy, Castle."

He laughed off her teasing as he came to a stop beside her.

"What's next?"

She looked around a bit and then pulled her phone from her jacket pocket. She checked the GPS and noticed that the road she'd chosen made a large loop.

"Next, we see if we can get you going with your feet up. Turn around."

Carefully, with the bike back in neutral, he walked it around, stopping to await further instructions. She stepped up next to him, and placed her hands on his shoulders, throwing her leg over and sliding on behind him. As she positioned her hands at his waist, he tensed, and she wondered if he'd stopped breathing for just a moment. But he recovered quickly and turned his head toward her.

"So what do I do now?"

"Exactly what you did before," she said. "Shift down to first, let out the clutch smoothly, accelerate a little, and get going with your feet down. When you feel like you've got your balance, pick your feet up. Just take it slow and steady."

He tapped his foot down on the shifter, still gripping the clutch tightly. He hesitated on the accelerator and she lightly squeezed his waist in encouragement. It startled him though and he let the clutch out too quickly. The bike jumped underneath them and then stalled. He glanced back at her.

"Takes some practice to get the rhythm right," she observed. "You'll get it."

He started the bike again, and she released his waist with one hand, reaching forward to tighten her fingers over his on the clutch.

"Forget the accelerator for now. Just focus on smoothly letting out the clutch."

Her chest pressed into his back, and she kept one arm tight against his stomach in case they took off suddenly, but her eyes were focused on their joined hands. She wove her fingers with his, and then slowly loosened their grasp on the clutch. The bike started to roll forward.

"Perfect, Castle, that's great. Now accelerate just a bit. Just ease into it."

She could see his grin in her peripheral vision, but she said nothing more. He pulled back with his right hand and they sped up, but only slightly.

"A little more," she encouraged. "You can go a little faster, just take it smoothly."

"Is this okay?" he asked, as the bike picked up speed.

"That's good, Castle. How does it feel?"

"It's good, yeah. A little faster maybe?"

"Sure," she said, raising her voice a bit so he could hear her over the growing roar. "Find a speed that's comfortable to you. Too slow and we won't go anywhere. You'll just fall over. But don't go too fast or you'll lose control."

He didn't respond, but cleared his throat, and accelerated a little more, slowly lifting his feet as they moved forward. She pulled her left hand back to join her right at his waist, and they traveled onward for a few minutes.

Before long she could see a curve coming up, and she leaned in close to his ear.

"You'll want to slow down a bit as you come into the curve, but speed up as you move through it."

He nodded his understanding and she continued.

"I'll move with you, and you can put your foot down if you need."

The turn was a success, and they continued to ride, the bike gaining speed as Castle gained confidence. They completed a few more turns and made the loop, then again, and one more time, before the writer finally slowed down, pulling to a stop in front of a large, shady oak tree a few hundred yards in from the entrance to the road.

"Ready for a break?" Kate asked as he turned off the bike and lifted his helmet over his head.

"Yeah, it's harder than it looks."

"Maybe," she nodded, dismounting and removing her own helmet.

"But you did well, Castle, especially for your first time."

He threw his leg back over the bike and gained his balance back on the ground. Kate glanced around them and when she turned back to look at him, he was taking a moment to stretch his back, thrusting his hips forward as he curved his spine and raising his arms above his head. His jacket rode up his sides a little and she noticed that his crimson shirt was starting to come untucked from his low-slung jeans.

She was close enough to hear the slight exhale of contented breath that he let out as his tense muscles relaxed and he lowered his arms.

"Mind if we sit for a few minutes?"

She nodded her assent and watched as he unzipped his jacket, wiggling out of it and folding it over one arm. He slid his phone from his jeans and looked at it for a moment before dropping it into the front left pocket of the jacket.

"I'll treat you to lunch in a bit, if we can find someplace to eat around here. Unless you need to head back, that is."

She shook her head.

"No other plans today. But actually, I brought some stuff."

He lifted his eyebrows.

"What kind of stuff?"

She shrugged and turned back to the bike, lifting the flap of the bag on the side.

"Nothing fancy. I just wasn't sure how far from civilization we'd be, and I didn't want to have to put up with your whining about how hungry you were."

She pulled out a brown paper sack and headed back to where he was standing in the shade.

"Hope you like peanut butter and jelly."

She expected a rebuttal to her comment about his whininess or teasing about her lack of culinary prowess. What she got was surprise. His mouth opened slightly and he just stared at her for a moment, the expression on his face a little taken aback.

"What, Castle?"

His brows furrowed and when he spoke, it was quiet.

"You made us lunch?"

She shrugged again before sitting down on the soft grass in front of the tree and setting the sack next to her before she pulled off her own jacket.

"You hungry, or what?"

Her words jolted him out of his distraction, and he followed, dropping down at her side and spreading his leather jacket in front of them. He began to empty the contents of the the bag on the jacket, pulling out a pair of sandwiches wrapped in plastic, two bottles of water, napkins, a bag of chips, a small container of baby carrots and another container whose contents could not be seen.

"Dessert," she said, in answer to his unspoken question.

He grinned, and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows.

She reached down to retrieve one of the sandwiches, but he stopped her with a warm hand on her wrist. Her eyes met his, and there was something there that she saw from time to time. Genuine affection, if she wasn't mistaken, mixed with gratitude.

"Thank you."

She returned his smile with a nod.

"It's no big deal, Castle."

He shook his head.

"No one's packed me a lunch in a very long time," he said, his voice gentle.

His expression was open and his blue eyes said too much, told of things she wasn't ready to know, not now. She continued on her path for a sandwich, his fingers sliding over her forearm for a moment as she moved until he released her to pick up his own sandwich.

"Consider it your belly rub for a job well done on the bike," she joked, opening the bag of chips while he lifted the lid on the carrots.

She glanced back up at him with a smirk to find the too-soft sparkle in his eyes replaced by the familiar glint.

"Too bad," he said, pausing to take a quick bite of his sandwich. "I was hoping for a more literal interpretation of that particular treat."

He took another bite and grape jelly squirted out onto his fingers. He brought them to his mouth, his tongue slowly laving away the sweet substance, his eyes never leaving hers.

She leaned down for a carrot, lifting it to her lips as she looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. She had his attention. Good.

"In your dreams, Writer Boy," she drawled and crunched down hard on the carrot. He winced, but didn't look away.

His eyes flicked down to her mouth, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flicker of movement.

He was reaching toward her, his large hand almost at her cheek, and she felt her heart rate increase. Her free hand rose to his arm, grasping just above his wrist, but her long fingers didn't quite span the muscles there. He paused, bringing his eyes back to hers, but then his thumb darted out, swiping across her lips and the corner of her mouth. She froze, but felt her fingers tighten on his arm involuntarily as he drew back, sucking his thumb into his own mouth, his eyes drifting lazily shut. For a moment, she just watched him and then his eyes snapped open.

"Hey," he said, indignantly. "How come I got grape when you had strawberry?"

Her hand was still wrapped around his arm, and she allowed to nails to dig into his skin, just enough to pinch.

He yelped, and pulled away, narrowing his eyes as he examined the small crescent shapes now imprinted into his tan skin.

"I should report you for police brutality," he whined, looking up to see her smirking as she finished off her sandwich.

"Kinda hard to do if I leave you out here."

He raised his eyebrows and stuffed the last bit of his own lunch into his mouth.

"Oo wooun't."

"Wanna bet?"

He swallowed and she knew he wasn't totally sure that she wouldn't leave him in the middle of nowhere.

"Fine," he grouched. "Then I'll just report you on the tip-line."

"You'd need a phone for that."

He patted his hands against his thighs, but didn't find his cell. He reached for his jacket, but she'd been quicker, plucking his phone from the side pocket before he remembered where he'd stashed it. He lunged for it, but she slid it into the back pocket of her own jeans.

He leaned back on his haunches.

"Is that supposed to stop me?"

She quirked an eyebrow.

"If you value your life. And your ability to reproduce."

She started to smirk in triumph at the horrified look on his face, but then he lunged again, pushing her down onto the soft grass.

For a moment, he loomed above her, grinning, but it only took a second for her to regain her composure and put her training to use. She hooked her ankle around his and flipped them, landing on top of him with a thud that had him gasping for breath. He struggled, but she had him well pinned, leaning over him and holding his hands above his head.

"Now, you have two choices. You can be a gentleman and realize that I could have broken your wrist for touching me without my permission, not to mention complaining about the lunch I brought you, and we can sit up and eat our dessert and have a nice day. Or, I can take your phone and leave you here to walk to the nearest house so you can ask to use their phone, explaining that you got beaten up by a girl. Which would you prefer?"

He was breathing hard, but still smiling, and she had a difficult time keeping the laughter out of her voice.

"Depends," he said, his eyes twinkling. "What's for dessert?"

She shook her head and released his hands, unhooking her ankle, and rolling to his side.

They lay there in silence for a minute, and she wondered exactly what she'd done to end up with him as her shadow, and whether it was something she'd done wrong or something she'd done right.

"Kate?" his hesitant voice broke her from her thoughts.

She turned her head to see him gazing up into the branches above them.

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. You know I'd never push you into anything, right?"

She rolled to her side to face him fully, reaching out to squeeze his bicep and trailing her hand down across the light hair of his forearm to curl her index finger around his.

He turned to look at her and the uncertain expression on his face made her soften further.

"I know, Castle," she said, and tightened her finger. "I push your buttons, you pull my pigtails. It's just who we are."

His lips quirked up, and she saw the undisguised affection return to his eyes.

"Thanks for lunch, even if you did keep the strawberry for yourself."

She laughed, and he grinned at her.

"You're welcome, Castle. We haven't even gotten to the best part, though."

His eyes lit up and she continued.

"I made my grandmother's brownies."

"You made brownies? Best muse ever!"

She glared at his use of the term, and he gave her an apologetic look, lifting their joined hands to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to her index finger. She felt her cheeks flush, and she thumped his nose, pulling her hand out of his grasp.

She sat up and looked down to see him staring at her with a small measure of disbelief.

"You thumped my nose! What am I, a puppy?"

She shrugged.

"Didn't you say you wanted a belly rub?"

He had to laugh then.

"Well-played, Detective. Well-played."

"You touch things you're not supposed to touch, you get thumped on the nose. You do what I tell you, you get a belly rub."

In a moment of unthinking boldness, she illustrated her point, reaching over to pat him on the stomach. She felt his muscles clench under her hand and she glanced up at him, noticing the way his eyes had darkened in that fraction of a second.

"Kate," he said, and his voice sounded a little huskier than usual.

She looked back at her hand and willed it to move away, but instead it fisted into his maroon shirt, the tension drawing the fabric up out of his jeans and revealing an expanse of smooth, tan skin, broken by a thin vertical line of dark hair.

"Kate," he repeated, and her eyes darted back to his.

For a few seconds, neither moved, but when his mouth opened to say something else, she tugged on his shirt, then released it and stood.

"Come on, Castle. Time for dessert."

She stepped over him and settled on the ground on the other side, packing up the remnants of the first part of their lunch and looking anywhere but at the man next to her. She heard him sit up after a moment and then he was leaning over to reach for the brownie container, nudging her with his shoulder as he did.

"These look amazing," he said as he lifted the lid. "Are those peanut butter chips?"

She turned to see him reaching in for a gooey piece.

"Butterscotch," she corrected.

"Even better," he said, and she watched as he lifted the dessert to his mouth, taking the first bite and chewing slowly.

His eyes flashed to hers and then slid shut as he finally swallowed.

"Is that cream cheese in the middle?"

"Yep."

His eyes stayed closed, but his free hand reached out and unerringly found hers.

"Marry me, Beckett."

"What?"

The brownie she'd picked up dropped back into the container, and he opened his eyes.

"Marry me, and make these every day for the rest of our lives."

She laughed and shook her head.

"I guess the way to a man's heart really is through his stomach."

"Mmm...you know it. Between brownies and belly rubs, I'd never let you go."

She felt her face heat up again, but played along anyway.

"And what do I get out of the deal?"

"An adorable red-head, and access to my Ferrari whenever you want?"

She laughed and dropped his hand.

"One, I don't need to marry you to spend time with Alexis. Two, a Ferrari would be nice, but it can't beat the feel of my bike, the rush of that raw power underneath me."

He coughed, and she handed him his water bottle.

"So that's a no?"

"That's a no, Castle. But let me know if you come up with a better offer."

"I'll get back to you."

"Come on," she chuckled, standing and extending a hand to him. "We should probably head back. Besides, if you're good, I've got more brownies at home."

He grinned.

"Now you'll never get rid of me."


End file.
